November
by F Elizabeth
Summary: Two Warblers spend the last morning in November sitting in damp grass. One little birdie bawls, the other is there for support.  Based off personal experiences with death.
1. Chapter 1

**_This little one-shot titled November is one I cried over. I really cried as I wrote this. It means more to me than any of my readers will ever get out of it. I wrote this early in the morning, about 3 am, and I'm posting this a few hours later, like ten am. I always imagined this one-shot. It's been on my mind for the past week, but I never got time to write it down until now. I really, really hope you enjoy this. My inspiration for this is a close family member's passing. If you're looking for Klaine lemons or any kissing, you're reading the wrong fic. Sorry, not here. If you're still here and have read through my sob story intro, enjoy._**

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It was painful standing there, just watching Kurt sit down on the wet grass in a black silk suit, not caring about the grass stains he would find later. The day was sunny; there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was about nine in the morning, which would explain why the grass was still damp and squished under our shoes. The grass was neatly trimmed and broken up in lines by large gray slabs of stone with letters carved in them. It was a horrible place to be on such a beautiful day.

Kurt tucked his legs in and sat cross-legged in the grass with a bouquet of yellow roses mixed in with red and pink ones.

"They're her favorite," Kurt had told me as we took the forty-five minutes to drive up to the small rural plot.

The cellophane wrapping crinkled loudly as he turned it in his hands. Drops of water gently collected at the cut ends of the flowers and fell into the grass. Kurt lifted the flowers to his face and inhaled deeply before placing the bouquet in front of him on the ground.

In the beginning I didn't know where we were going and why. I only got a text message from Kurt, saying to meet at his house in a nice suit and tie. He didn't say why, but I discovered why and it killed me. Every second of this killed me.

"It's her birthday," Kurt had said as we drove away from the city and into the rural part of Lima, Ohio. "I always come on her birthday."

Kurt's red truck was parked at the rusty iron gate, far from where we stood. The metal fence linked together and formed a perfect square and we stood at the back of the square, in the back left corner. A looming willow tree gave us a fraction of shade from the sun. It wasn't hot from the sun. It was cool and there was a slight breeze that carried little petals from the flowers other people had left. It wasn't quite December, but the end of November, just after Thanksgiving. Today was the thirtieth of November.

"She loved November," Kurt had told me as we'd driven up to the gate. "She always loved it because it was her birthday month, and Thanksgiving was her favorite holiday in the entire year."

The plot seemed like the only source of civilization for miles on all sides. There was the dirt road that led here, but it was a dirt road and not a paved cement road that people usually took. Forty-five minutes was all it took from Kurt's house to where we stood now. Now, he spoke in his delicate clear voice.

"Hi, Mom," he said softly and the breeze almost carried his voice away. "How are you? How's Mama? And Grandfather? I bet they're glad to see you up there. I know I would be."

The stone was weathered white marble.

_Lorraine Elizabeth Hummel_

_ November 30__th__, 1961 – February 28__th__, 2002_

_ Beloved in our hearts, will not be forgotten_

"I'm so happy to see you again, Mom," Kurt sighed. He glanced up at the willow tree. "Your tree's still growing well. I'm surprised it looks so healthy. You should thank Dad for that. He comes out every week to take care of it, but I'm sure you knew that already. It'll be here for a while."

I stood behind him, the backs of my calves brushing against the stone behind me, my hands clasped in front of me. We were the only ones here. No one was in sight. It was peaceful and quiet and lovely. He asked me to come with him and I still don't know why. He didn't bring his father, or his step-mother with him. He brought me and it was obvious I didn't belong here. But then Kurt started to talk again.

"You would be proud of Dad," he was saying as he picked at a blade of grass, rubbing it between his index finger and his thumb. He looked up at the stone. "I'm sure you know by now, but he got remarried a few weeks ago. Don't worry, she's a very good mother. I wouldn't worry about that. Her name is Carole and she is just wonderful. She won't ever replace you, ever, but it's nice to see Dad happy again. Did he tell you the last time he was here?"

The breeze picked up and the cellophane on the bouquet rustled, but it didn't seem to faze Kurt as he talked on. From an outsider's point of view, it would appear that he was talking to himself, with another person standing behind him. No one else was there but us and a handful of roses.

"After Dad got remarried," Kurt continued and used his hands to animate his words, "I got a new step-brother. Oh, you and Finn would get along so well, Mom. He's a wonderful sibling. He likes baseball and football, like you do. You and he would have so much fun at sport's games, you, he and Dad. And maybe me, if you begged me. Which you always do." He paused to laugh. "The house isn't so lonely anymore. It feels like a home for the first time in eight years."

Wetness pricked the backs of my eyes and I ducked my head, blinking to get rid of them. Kurt had barely told me about his mother. He had said she was nice and that she passed away when he was eight. He didn't say from what.

Kurt grabbed the wrapping of flowers again and held them up. "I brought you flowers for you birthday," he eagerly said. "I know you love yellow roses, because they mean happiness, and you're always happy, so I picked up some of those. And I know Dad always gets you red roses for your anniversary because he loves you so much, and I got those, too. And the pink ones, just because you love the pink ones, but you never like the yellows and the pinks together. I'm sorry about that, but I hope it's okay for now."

I turned my head. His truck still sat silently outside the gate. It seemed so far away . . .

Kurt sniffed and brought his wrist to his nose. "I'm sorry from crying a little, Mom, but I haven't seen you since last year. You know how I get when I don't see you in a long time."

Time was not an object anymore. I stood there, counting the seconds, watching the sun streak across the sky, feeling the wind blow faintly against my face. Just as long as he was happy.

"I miss you," he whimpered and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, I promised myself I wouldn't cry this time, but I can't help it . . ."

I found myself dabbing at the corners of my eyes with my fingers and a streak rolled lazily down my the side of my face. I sniffed and Kurt turned his head. His eyes were red and his cheeks were flushed pink, like the roses, and he smiled. He beckoned me with the wave of his hand and took my hand. He pulled me down on the ground with him in front of the stone.

"You don't have to say anything, just be here," he whispered in my ear before turning back to the stone. "Mom, I want you to meet someone. I mean, I know you're not here, but it would mean the world to me. Dad probably told you all about it, but I changed high schools. That's why I haven't been around as often as I'd like. It's all the way in Westerville, about three hours from here. I go to school at Dalton Academy now."

The grass around us swayed indolently around us as it moderately dried in the morning sun.

"This is Blaine, Mom. He goes to Dalton with me now. We're both in the glee club there." Kurt took a moment to breathe in and give me a small smile. "He's my best friend. He's there for me whenever I need help. And he's my boyfriend. I know you wouldn't think I would find someone good enough for me, but I did. He's everything to me. I love him so much."

He gave my hand a weak squeeze as tears spilled onto his face and he sniffled loudly. I was shocked into silence and breathed in through my mouth. My lips were dry and cracked, the way they always get when I cry. Kurt reached a hand up to wipe away the wetness under his eyes and it was few minutes before he said anything.

"Happy birthday, Mom," Kurt said with a tremor in his voice and he leaned his head against my shoulder. "I miss you."

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**_I imagine Kurt's mother to be played by Frances Ruffelle and will give a link as soon as possible to a photo I made for this story. _****_Reviews would be lovely._**


	2. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

_In this story, Kurt and Blaine drive to the cemetery for Kurt to see his mother on her birthday. _

_This link leads to my Tumblr, where I have posted a photo I made to represent the story:_

_.com/post/2364766545/i-miss-you-he-whimpered-and-buried-his-face-in_

_The actress playing Kurt's mom is Frances Ruffelle._

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_**Thank you for reading! Again, I am still taking Glee one-shot or two-shot requests! Two are more characters are required for a request. You may add a storyline for me to write off of if you desire. Please send requests to my inbox.**


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